04-21-2020
The port is in with little fan fare. It’s now almost 1 pm and I’m on the 2nd medication, which is the Herceptin. The Perjeta is already done, but it took 1.5 hours for that one. It looks like it will be less time on the 2nd treatment.
I slept for a time after receiving Benadryl to stop any reaction, so I was very sleepy for a time, and got some sleep for a time.
The first two drugs were for the HER2 receptors, (1.5 hours each) and now I’m finishing with the Taxol, the chemo drug that creates the most side effects, in terms of not feeling well. So, far so good, and now I’m sucking on the ice cubes to prevent mouth sores.
The Taxol is the one that would cause my hair to fall out, or thin, and the one that usually has the nausea associated with it. They gave me drugs to prevent some of the effects before we started, so hoping that they will do the trick.
My very attentive nurse Irias, as were all the nurses, was on her feet, pretty much non-stop and only now, around 3:30 has it slowed down here, but, even with less people, they are all still zooming around cleaning things and charting, etc. This is a super hero team of nurses and I’m sure not always appreciated by those that come in contact with them each day.
Bringing a soft, fluffy blanket was a really good idea. They gave me a blanket, but it was so cold in that room that I needed both, and I’m typically hot all the time. Being sleepy for the first couple of hours due to the Benadryl is likely the reason, plus just sitting for all that time.
04-22-2020
The steroid, as Irias told me, would likely keep me up most of the night—it did. But no nausea or other side effects except for a small rash on my chin. I was hungry this morning, so that was also good, and other than being tired, I feel okay.
Well, that’s not exactly true, as the port incisions are sore, but ice and Tylenol have helped that and I went for a small walk today, which I think is pretty good, all things considered.
My friend Fracesca and my client/friend Anne, both have talked about fasting for chemo, which seems counter productive, but Francesca sent me some research on the subject, and the Mayo Clinic did a study and it seems to hold true. I was already fasting because of the port surgery and had about 15 hours without food before the chemo treatment, and that seemed to help. Here is one link on the subject: https://health.usnews.com/health-care/patient-advice/articles/2018-04-20/can-fasting-improve-chemotherapys-effects
For my next treatment I’m going to do the same and push it a bit longer, as it did seem to make a difference. No nausea, no diarrhea or constipation or mouth issues.
Wearing a mask all day, as all the patients did, including myself, is a pain, but important with that group of people—all dealing with maladies that need chemo. The immune system is so compromised with the drugs, and it makes sense to take the extra measures, but I garnered a new appreciation of those that have to wear them everyday, all week long. Even my cute, handmade mask (Thank you Kim Toops) was uncomfortable by the end of the day and the nurses use the N95 masks that are much heavier.
I have a new, up close and personal appreciation of the medical world, at least in this capacity anyway. There was an older, frail-looking man that was a couple of chairs down from me that seemed to struggle with the treatment, and it turned out, needed oxygen at the beginning of the session, however, he did not speak English. As he tried to express his needs, he seemed to panic a bit, and an interpreter was brought in and he was able to get his needs met, until he didn’t.
The chairs in the cancer center are like riding a bucking bronco and if you lean them backwards so your feet are up, when you lean forward, even a little, they would slam the foot rest down, forcing you forward in the chair. For this older gentleman, they put a stool under the foot so it wouldn’t fall, but then he couldn’t get up without help. He needed to get up a lot to use the bathroom, as did everyone else since they have a saline drip going all day.
His voice matched his frail body and getting his nurses attention turned into, at first, something that sounded like snoring; rythmatic, and regular, and then if that wasn’t recognised, something like a grunt, with a bit more power was next. It was sad and interesting at the same time. His nurse was also the nurse of a number of others, including several that were in private rooms, so she was not always able to hear the initial sounds. Other nurses filled in now and then, but he was very insistive if he wasn’t answered pretty quickly. If he could have gotten up, he could have unplugged the machine himself and pushed it along to the bathroom, but the stool under his footrest prevented that.
He also was having some sort of side effects toward the end of the day, and was trying to express that to his nurse who couldn’t understand him. She quickly made her way to a cabinet to grab a notebook with some translations into what sounded like Farcie. No go, and the interpreter was brought back in to help. I’m not sure what the problem was, but he was done shortly after that and he left.
Appreciation of having the port put in happened just after that when two different women had to have IVs put in for their treatment. One was much older than me, and the other about my age. The first was in for a short treatment, but she nearly cried as the very skilled nurse tried to hit her vein and missed in her very thin and frail arm. The next followed in the same chair as the first, just a bit later on, and had the needle successfully inserted, but then kept messing with it, and when the nurse brought in her meds, she asked her to fix it so it wouldn’t pinch her.
Since I will being doing this for the next year, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with all of that each time. I asked Irias why more people don’t have the ports put in? She wasn’t sure, but agreed it much easier for the patient and the nurses since blood draws (on-going) are needed along with the chemo, which can take extra trips since they don’t do them there unless you have a port. Less pokes for sure and trips into labs.
So, week one is in the books and I have a better idea of the process, and will be a bit more organized next time so I can work, write and relax in the bucking bronco chair, which I found to be kind of a fun challenge.